


Clip the Wings of God

by FreshBrains



Series: Femslash 100 Drabble tag 5: Orphan Black [61]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Community: femslash100, Curiosity, F/F, Religion, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gracie has been sheltered from curious things long enough for her to want to reach out and touch that which puts fear in her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clip the Wings of God

**Author's Note:**

> For the femslash100 drabble tag 5 prompt: Grace/Helena - fallen angel.

Gracie has been sheltered from curious things long enough for her to want to reach out and touch that which puts fear in her heart.  And after spending a week in their dank trundle-bed hideaway, Helena has proven to be the most curious thing of all.

“What are those?”  Gracie stares at the cruel, red, marks on Helena’s bare back, the way the scars slither like snakes along her flesh when she moves the muscles of her back.  They look wet and shiny, fruity, forbidden like wine.

“My wings,” Helena says, looking over her shoulder at Gracie.  Her hair fans out like a pale golden halo.  “But I can’t fly away from this room, little girl.”

Gracie stands and walks to Helena’s side of the room.  “They’re beautiful,” she says, grazing the edge of the scars with the tip of her finger.  The flesh is hot and silky and sends a thrill down Gracie’s spine, sends heat between her legs.

Helena sighs, spine arching under Gracie’s touch.  She reaches back and takes Gracie’s other hand, bringing it around to cup her bare breast.  “I am a bad angel.”

“No,” Gracie says, closing her eyes.  Her fingers find the hard nub of Helena’s nipple, her other hands keeps tracing the scars, reading them like braille.  “You’re not an angel at all.”

Helena tips her head back, resting it on Gracie’s shoulder.  Gracie begins a prayer under her breath and slides her hand from Helena’s breast to the darkness between her legs.


End file.
